When playing football, you should call it GOAT.

Chapter 150 The Agent's Twilight
On April 17, 2004, at the Paris Grand Hotel in Monte Carlo, Monaco, crystal chandeliers gleamed coldly in the twilight.

Israeli agent Zahavi and Chelsea CEO Kenyon sat in a VIP box, their coffee already cold.

Kenyon glanced at his watch and frowned. "Milliajo is half an hour late. Was he doing it on purpose?"

Zahavi sneered, "He sold Zidane to Real Madrid back then, and Florentino waited for him for three hours—now it's our turn."

Kenyon pulled a document from his briefcase and lowered his voice: "The release clause is 4000 million euros, but you know, there are quite a few clubs in Europe that can afford to spend that much money, but besides us, only Real Madrid and Manchester United can match the terms."

Zahavi shook his head: "The problem is that this kid is worth at least 7000 million now! Yesterday, Marca said that Florentino wanted to make him the new face of the Galacticos."

Kenyon frowned: "Ha! Real Madrid guys are really something. They sold him off like trash for 30 euros back then, and now that he's made it big, they're pretending to welcome back their 'youth academy gem'?"

Zahavi chimed in: "That's exactly right. Now they're bragging in AS every day that this is the fruit of their training system. Now that he's humiliated Real Madrid with a hat-trick at the Bernabéu, it's become Florentino's best publicity material. The Spanish media are all hyping it up, saying he's the strongest talent in Real Madrid's youth academy history, much better than Raúl at the same age."

"Real Madrid is preparing to repackage their sale of him for a paltry 30 euros back then as a 'strategic loan move to develop him.' Florentino Pérez plans to make a big deal out of the signing ceremony, talking about 'a prodigal son returning home' and 'true Madridism.' Real Madrid is determined to sign Roy this time. Although they only need to pay the 4000 million euro release clause, they have offered him a top salary on par with Beckham—12 euros per week, plus 60% of his image rights."

Kenyon shook his head and said with a wry smile, "I'm not saying he doesn't deserve the price, but this plot is too surreal. A year and a half ago he was sitting on the bench in Real Madrid's B team, and now he's suddenly a superstar that all of Europe is scrambling to get? This is just like the protagonist in those third-rate football novels."

“The problem is that he’s been too amazing in the last year and a half,” Zahavi said, tapping the table. “14 Champions League goals, two-time Ligue 1 MVP. More importantly, he’s a genuine Real Madrid youth academy product. Madrid fans already consider him their ‘own child,’ and many people in the Bernabéu stands have become his supporters.”

"The scariest thing is that he's just a Frenchman. If he were a Spanish player, given his current popularity, Florentino would probably have even prepared to give him the number 7 jersey. Just imagine, a 19-year-old from Madrid's youth academy, scoring a hat-trick against Real Madrid at the Bernabéu, and now he's about to make a triumphant return. This story is so perfect it's almost like it was made up."

Kenyon's expression turned serious: "So, Real Madrid definitely has the upper hand in this signing."

“That’s right, so we have to offer even more attractive terms. Abramovich needs to be prepared that this could be the most important signing in Chelsea’s history.”

"As for Manchester United, I have already contacted their sources on the board. Although Ferguson really wants Roy, their new major shareholders, the Glazer family, are unwilling to spend so much money on a 19-year-old. We can easily make a higher offer than Manchester United until they withdraw from the competition."

"Therefore, Real Madrid is our only rival. But the good news is that Florentino has a fatal weakness: he's too proud. We can use this to our advantage in negotiations."

"We must take down Migliaccio today!"

Zahavi stated unequivocally, "Listen, the €4000 million release clause is the maximum price; there's no need to waste more money. But the key points are the other conditions: First, a €500 million agent fee for Migliaccio, paid in cash; second, a commitment to facilitate at least two Premier League transfers for him over the next three years; third..."

He lowered his voice, "We can put all the extra budget into Roy's personal benefits."

Kenyon immediately understood: "You mean..."

"A signing bonus of 10 million euros, a weekly salary of 1000 pounds (Crespo earns 9.4 pounds), 70% of image rights, and an additional 500 million euros for the Ballon d'Or."

Zahavi quickly listed the conditions, "The most crucial one is to specify in the contract that as long as Abramovich remains the boss, his core position will never be shaken."

Kenyon frowned: "But what if he gets injured? Or can't adapt to the physicality of the Premier League? This kind of guarantee is too risky."

Zahavi scoffed and waved his hand dismissively: "Peter, Peter, when did you become so naive? Contractual promises are like wedding vows—every newlywed couple swears to love only one person, yet divorce lawyers still do brisk business."

He took out his pen and did some calculations on a napkin: "This way, the total expenditure will be controlled at around 5500 million euros, which is more attractive than Real Madrid's offer."

Zahavi gave a shrewd smile: "That's why we need to secure Miliacho today. Once he signs an exclusive agency agreement, other clubs won't even have a chance to make an offer."

Will Abu agree?

He hasn't fully gotten used to Abu's way of spending money.

Zahavi sneered: "Don't you understand yet? Arsenal eliminated us this year, and Abramovich remembers it. If Roy can personally send Arsenal away in the Champions League semi-finals and then turn around and put on a Chelsea jersey—that would be more satisfying for Abramovich than winning ten Premier League titles."

"Just imagine, all of England will see: Arsenal's executioner becomes our new ace. Stamford Bridge fans will worship him as a hero, while Wenger will be stomping his feet in anger in the dressing room."

"But the transfer fee."

"Transfer fee?" Zahavi interrupted. "For Abramovich, it's just a ransom. He'd rather spend an extra 2000 million to see Arsenal fans weeping in front of their TVs."

Zahavi pulled out a few photos.

“Look at this, Roy’s agent has been meeting with Mendes in secret several times. We can’t delay any longer.”

Kenyon gritted his teeth: "Okay, let's do it your way. We can add one more clause—if Roy wins the Ballon d'Or, give Migliaccio an extra 200 million as a bonus."

Zahavi smiled with satisfaction: "That's more like it. Miliacho will be here soon, we can't give Real Madrid any more chances."

As they were talking, the door to the private room was pushed open, and Miriam Jo walked in, dressed in a sharp suit and holding a cell phone in his hand.

Miliacho entered the private room with a professional smile: "Excuse me, gentlemen. I just spoke with Roy on the phone. He wants to meet me after training, so we only have 20 minutes to talk."

Kenyon frowned: "20 minutes? We flew all the way from London."

“That’s how the transfer market is,” Miliacho said calmly. “Time is more valuable than money.”

Zahavi stated directly: "Abramovich is prepared to break the record for the treatment of young players, but only if Roy reaches a personal agreement with us first."

Miliacho has been riding high lately.

Every morning when he wakes up, his phone is full of unread messages.

A breakfast invitation from Real Madrid's sporting director, a request for a private jet transfer from Manchester United's CEO, and the latest draft contract from Juventus.

This feeling made him feel as if he had returned to the summer of 2001, when all the top clubs in Europe were also vying for his signature, Zidane.

Miriamjo enjoyed the feeling of being the center of attention.

He deliberately scheduled his meeting with Chelsea for last, just like he did with Real Madrid back then—making the most eager buyers wait until the end often yields the most lucrative terms.

He had met with Mendes several times during this period, but the Portuguese man's attitude had recently become somewhat ambiguous.

Manchester United are interested, but their board is still arguing over the percentage of image rights.

Management can accept a minimum of 30%, while shareholders insist on securing at least 40%.

Juventus and Bayern Munich also called, but Roy's attitude towards the Old Lady was a bit strange, and Bayern's offer was too low, which seemed insincere.

Miliajo had no intention of discussing serious matters in those twenty minutes; it was just one of his usual negotiation tactics.

Making buyers anxious will allow you to offer better terms.

But Zahavi didn't give him a chance to delay.

“Listen, Miko.”

Zahavi laid his cards on the table, saying, "Chelsea are willing to pay a 500 million commission, and you can take 400 million from the transfer fee. If Roy wins the Ballon d'Or, add another 200 million."

These three numbers were like three heavy punches, slamming into Miliacho's chest.

He instinctively held his breath—1100 million euros, more than any commission he had ever received in his life.

Miliacho's fingertips trembled slightly on the coffee cup.

He didn't manage this many transfers, even when he was handling Zidane's transfer, but that was already the most profitable agent case in history.

It wasn't until Cristiano Ronaldo's transfer in 2009 that he was surpassed.

The price Chelsea is offering now is enough for him to buy a seaside villa in Monaco, and he'll still have money left over to buy a yacht.

He suppressed the urge to sign immediately, but his throat was already dry.

This money would allow him to retire ten years early and live a carefree life on the French Riviera.

But his professional habits forced him to squeeze out, "I need to discuss it with Roy."

Zahavi smiled.

He was all too familiar with this reaction—when the impact of money was too great, agents would suddenly become exceptionally "respectful of the player's wishes."

“Of course, of course,” Zahavi continued, “but since we’re going to talk, why don’t you give Roy a heads-up first? Let him know Chelsea’s sincerity. For example, a weekly wage of £1000, 70% image rights, and a signing bonus of €10 million in cash. These figures should make the player seriously consider it, right?”

Milia Joel's Adam's apple bobbed.

He knew Zahavi was forcing him to take sides.

They either go and become Chelsea's lobbyist now, or they watch this astronomical commission slip away.

"I can try."

Migliorio finally relented, but his tone was less certain, "However, he's been getting quite close to Mendes lately."

Zahavi narrowed his eyes: "Then we need to hurry even more, don't we?"

In fact, Miliajo had already sensed that something was wrong, but he couldn't do anything about Roy.

This player is so opinionated that Migliorgio felt Roy could handle all matters himself without an agent.

Like that betting agreement with Nike, Roy negotiated almost entirely on his own, and almost all the terms were finalized; the whole process didn't even pass through his hands.

Even so, Roy still paid him his due commission as per the rules.

To be fair, Roy was an impeccable client: he not only helped him earn a lot of commission from commercial contracts, but also helped him sign several players from Monaco.

But human desires are insatiable; Miliajo always felt he could get even more from Roy.

After Roy finished training, Miliajo met him at his home.

The young people were still enthusiastic, immediately giving him a hug and a cheek kiss, but Miliacho's heart skipped a beat.

Roy has never liked such intimate gestures; he usually just shakes hands and that's it.

This unusual hug today felt like saying "goodbye".

He looked around and saw Roy's new girlfriend, Leticia Costa, sitting on the sofa flipping through a magazine.

When the rumors about the two first broke a few days ago, Miliajo immediately contacted the media to prepare a public relations response, but before he could even act, Roy had already handled the matter cleanly on his own. This feeling was all too familiar.

Just like when Roy broke up with his ex-girlfriend Doutzen Kroos, even though he was quick enough, Roy always managed to beat him to it.

Miliajo suddenly realized that Roy had long since given up on entrusting him with these personal matters.

The young people have their own teams and are quietly distancing themselves from him.

What made him feel even worse was that the person in charge of these matters was Claire, whom he had introduced to Roy.

This shrewd and capable young woman is now managing all of Roy's business partnerships, and she's doing an excellent job.

Miriam Joel remembered that when she recommended Claire, she simply thought she was capable and could help Roy with some trivial matters.

Unexpectedly, she has now taken over almost all of Roy's business decisions, while he, as her agent, has been excluded.

The thought sent a chill down his spine, but he still had to maintain the professional smile of an agent.

Miriam forced a professional smile, suppressing her unease.

He opened his briefcase and took out Chelsea's offer document.

"Roy, let's not talk about that now. Chelsea has offered unprecedented terms."

Migliorgio flipped open the contract and read out the key clauses at lightning speed: "A signing bonus of 10 million euros will be deposited directly into your account, and your weekly salary will be 1000 pounds—higher than Crespo's current 9.4 pounds. You'll get 70% of the image rights, and if you win the Ballon d'Or, you'll get an additional 500 million."

He deliberately pointed to the last line with his fingertip: "Abu personally guaranteed that as long as he is here, you will be the absolute core."

Miliajo stared intently at Roy's expression, trying to catch a glimpse of wavering.

He knew that these conditions were already shocking enough, but given Chelsea's style, there was definitely room for negotiation.

He figured that if he could help Roy negotiate a weekly wage of $11 or increase his image rights to 75%, he could prove his worth again.

“This is only the first round of offers,” he lowered his voice, hinting, “Given Abramovich’s style, all we need to do is give him a push.”

Miliacho's voice grew softer and softer, until the last few words were almost a soliloquy.

Roy remained silent, his fingers tapping lightly on the sofa armrest.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating half of his face but making his eyes appear even more enigmatic.

“Mendes certainly has connections,” Migliacio continued, “but in the Premier League, nobody knows how to deal with Abramovich better than us. Think about it, the spotlight at Stamford Bridge, £10 a week.”

He deliberately avoided mentioning Barnett's name.

Although the British agent is quite influential in the Premier League, what Migliorgio is confident he can handle, Barnett may not be able to do any better.

The key is that he has what Abramovich wants most: a talented player like Roy.

"Chelsea's offer is just the beginning. If you want, we can even negotiate a weekly wage of £12. Abramovich has never been afraid to spend a few million more for top stars."

Miliajo suddenly closed the contract document with a soft "snap".

He realized he had misjudged the situation—now was not the time to talk about commissions, but to figure out how to protect this cash cow.

“Roy,” he changed his tone, “if you’re not interested in Chelsea, we can contact Florentino directly. I also have connections at Real Madrid, no worse than Mendes.”

“Chelsea’s offer can serve as a stepping stone. We can take this to Florentino and tell him that he either has to match Abramovich’s terms or watch the ‘Real Madrid gem’ go to Stamford Bridge.”

As he spoke, he took out his phone and quickly scrolled through his contacts to find Florentino Perez's private number.

He did this deliberately, just so Roy would see it.

"I can offer the same conditions as the Portuguese."

Migliorgio lowered his voice, "And it's safer. You know, Mendes has too many players under his wing; he can't just revolve around you."

He stared intently at Roy's reaction, contemplating whether he should call the Real Madrid president right now.

In the traditional agent circle, Migliorgio certainly has the confidence to do so.

He orchestrated record-breaking transfers like Zidane's and maintained relationships with the chairmen of major clubs for over a decade.

If it really comes down to connections, Mendes, this rising star, might not be his match.

Miriam suddenly spoke rapidly, revealing his plan:
“Listen, we can do this – let Real Madrid sign you first, using Chelsea’s offer as leverage. Florentino Pérez is most susceptible to this; that’s how he took Zidane from Juventus. Abramovich has always wanted Ronaldo, and we can promise to make the deal happen in a year. This way, Real Madrid can both profit from the transfer fee difference and shift their attacking focus from Raúl to you.”

“Mendes would never dare to propose this to Florentino, but I’ve dealt with Real Madrid quite a bit. I know how to make everyone feel like they’re getting a good deal. This isn’t just empty talk. Raul is almost 27 years old, and he can’t maintain his form forever. If you wear number 9 for a year or two, and perform well enough, we can definitely get Florentino to give you number 7 ahead of time.”

His eyes gleamed, and his voice carried a hint of seduction:

"Just imagine, all the spotlight at the Bernabéu will be on you. Without Raúl, without Ronaldo, you'll be Real Madrid's only star. Mendes has so many players under his wing, and so does Raiola. Who can give you that kind of promise?"

Miliacho knew he had gone a bit too far, but he didn't care anymore.

This is his last chance; he must show Roy that he is more valuable than Mendes.

"Miko, it's been a pleasure working with you."

Miliacho's eyes lit up, thinking that things had taken a turn for the better.

But then Roy shook his head slightly, a polite smile on his face: "However, I think it's time to make some changes."

These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over Miliacho's head.

He opened his mouth, only to find that all his carefully prepared words were stuck in his throat.

Roy's gaze had already passed over him and was now fixed on the kitchen.

Claire walked over unnoticed, holding a draft of the termination documents.

Roy's voice was calm: "Miko, let's settle the accounts first. From the time you brought me into the industry until now, all the revenue sharing from commercial endorsements and the fees for contract renewal negotiations will be paid in full as stipulated in the contract. You will receive every penny you are owed."

Before Migliorio could speak, Roy continued, "I heard you've always liked Porsches. I recently acquired a 1956 356A, in excellent condition, original paint, and less than 50,000 kilometers on the odometer. It will be delivered to your garage next week as a parting gift."

This vintage car is not only a generous gift, but also a clear signal.

Roy wanted to end their partnership in the most dignified way possible.

All the accounts were meticulously calculated, and they even gave him an extra generous gift, leaving him no room for negotiation.

Miriam Jo stared intently at Claire. The blonde woman in her early twenties remained calm, her hands folded on her knees, as if everything happening before her had nothing to do with her.

She didn't even glance at Miriam Joel, as if there had never been a superior-subordinate relationship between them.

This business prodigy, whom he poached from Mendes' company with a high salary more than two years ago, may never have truly left Mendes' camp.

Now she has not only taken full control of Roy's business affairs, but has also personally cut off the cooperation channel that could bring Migliaccio millions of euros in revenue sharing every year.

Ironically, Migliaccio paid Mendes a hefty €10 release clause to poach Claire.

Looking back now, that money was practically like training fees for developing talent for our competitors.

Over the past 18 months, Claire not only thoroughly understood all of Roy's business resources and negotiation tactics, but also secretly transferred Roy's sponsorship relationships to the platform controlled by Mendes.

What pained Miliajo the most was that three of his very capable assistants were transferred to Roy's dedicated service team by Claire at the beginning of this year under the pretext of "business integration".

Now these people have become core members of the new cooperation model, while he can't even get his basic commission anymore.

He was lost in remorse when he suddenly heard Roy clap his hands twice crisply.

"Next, let's talk about the new collaboration, Miko."

Roy's voice suddenly became lighter.

Miriam looked up in confusion, and Roy leaned close to his ear and whispered a name:
“Zizou”.

That evening, when Arsenal's plane landed at Nice Airport, the area outside the runway fence was already crowded with reporters.

Wenger looked out the porthole toward Monaco.

Ten years ago, he won his first championship in this small Mediterranean town.

This return to familiar ground is of extraordinary significance.

If Arsenal can overcome Monaco, they can make history.

This return to familiar territory presents the most severe test yet.

The schedule is extremely unfavorable for the Gunners: their semi-final opponent, Monaco, is the hottest team in European football this season, with the best attacking firepower in the top five leagues.

On the other side, Deportivo La Coruña and Porto, although slightly more famous, may actually be easier to deal with.

Wenger sighed softly.

He knew that if he couldn't even get past Monaco, even if he managed to reach the final, he would have little chance of success.

A true strongman should face the strongest opponent head-on.

It could be said that the real final was this semi-final.

Wenger was calculating that if Arsenal could secure a draw away from home, or even a draw with goals, their chances of winning at home would be much higher.

This team has never been so close to the Champions League final.

(End of this chapter)